Speaking of foods to avoid, Scott's hospital dinner consisted of puréed mushroom soup, strawberry mousse and a few beverages. When I finally convinced Scott to eat, I handed him a warm mug and urged him to try the soup. After a couple of spoonfuls, Scott said quietly, "I don't think this is soup." That's when I noticed the teabag on the tray and realized that I had been encouraging him to eat hot water.
Okay, so I'll never be a nurse (or a chef). That's not surprising. I have always been fine going to hospitals for my own treatments and tests, but I'm a lousy visitor. Once Scott was moved to his room, I talked to him for a few minutes and realized the amount of pain he was in. As my head began to spin I tried to pull up a chair but couldn't manoeuver it past the IV stand and the bed. Finally I gave up and sank to the floor, feeling faint. The nurse couldn't bring the morphine fast enough for either of us.
Scott seemed more comfortable once the morphine drip took effect. He slipped in and out of consciousness while I sat beside him (having successfully rearranged the furniture at last) and read. When it came time for me to leave him for the night I found myself verklempt, feeling oddly guilty. Hopefully he is sleeping comfortably now. I hope to be able to bring him home tomorrow and look forward to having him back to his normal self.